A Royal Mistake
by TrickeyTricky
Summary: Bella, a historic book appraiser in Forks, Washington learns that her boyfriend is actually the prince of a small country. When Prince Edward Anthony Masen, heir to Voltura's throne, brings his girlfriend home, will love win or lose? [E&B, AH]
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** I accept that many aspects of this story are not my own creation, utilizing both Stephanie Meyer's characters and a Hallmark movie plot line. I am not the owner of anything, and no copyright infringement is intended in anyway. In my head, Twilight characters asked to be these movie characters; colliding the two into what I would consider the ultimate form of fan flattery, fan fiction. **Thank** **you** in advance to everyone who follows, reads, and _comments.

 **BELLA**

My feet hit the ground, kicking glassy granules against my calves as I cross the familiar stretch of LaPush Beach. Daily, under a near-constant cover of clouds, I zip up a light moisture-wicking jacket and lace up my sneakers. I enjoy everything about the run, but what I like most is the scene around me. Although the sky is often gloomy, its not near the omnipresent shade my mother, Renee would have you believe she escaped. Prominent verdant vegetation lines steep silvery slopes that lead to golden dunes before they slowly fade into an endless indigo ocean.

As my heart rate picks up, I am reminded of the miserable summers I spent with my mom in Florida as a teenager. The sweat beginning to bead and roll between my breasts brings back the feeling of unrelenting humidity. A light rain sprinkles down on me and quickly washes away any thoughts I have of the south's blistering sun. After my first run at my mom's I decided to always live full-time with my dad, Charlie. All twenty-six years of my life I've called Forks home.

"Good morning," I greet a jogger passing. He nods, earbuds securely in place. Clearly he doesn't hear me. I could have said _Food Warning_ for all he cared.

"Hey, Bells," a familiar voice approaches me from behind. I turn to see Jake's friendly smile and quickly pick up my pace to keep up with him now.

"Hi, Jake," I pause and catch my breath, "How'd your wife like her birthday gift?"

"It was a great idea, Bells," Jake's grin grew exponentially when he spoke of his wife, Nessa. "She absolutely loved the collectors edition of Guy Endore's _The Werewolf in Paris_. She was even more shocked when she saw the plane tickets to Paris hidden behind the dust jacket." He is excited to share details of their upcoming vacation. He tells me about how he recently sold a car he'd been restoring to afford this luxury. I am glad Jake is doing the talking. I need all the oxygen I can to survive his gait.

Jake stops suddenly and turns to me, "I truly can't thank you enough for letting me know about the Endore re-release. It's her favorite book."

"Aw, you're welcome. What are friends for? Plus, it _is_ kind of my job." I nudge his shoulder with mine and then give him a little tilt of my head to suggest he should go ahead of me. Jake makes running seem effortless.

He winks and takes off, yelling over his shoulder, "Tell Masen I said, put a ring on it!" His voice fades as he gets further away and I can't help but roll my eyes. Not all of us get the royal treatment like Nessa.

 _Show off._

I spin on my heels, causing a skid mark to form underneath me in the sand. I look in the direction of my truck, although I can't see it, and contemplate my jog back. Just then, my phone plays a happy tune. Glancing down, I see Masen's name brightly light up the display. Now, I'm just as bad as Jake with the knowing grin forming from ear to ear across my face. My cheeks are hot with anticipation. I can't lie, Masen does make me feel like a princess.

Answering energetically, I quip, "Hey, babe, ready for our hot date?"

On the other end, a delectable British accent greets me, "Are you burning off morning energy while I have yet to have a cup of coffee?"

"You're considering coffee, not tea? Have I finally brought you over to the dark side? The dark roast side," certainly Masen can hear the smile in my voice as I ask the question.

"Maybe," He answers with a laugh of his own. "Are we still on for this evening, darling? I'm going to stop by the recording studio for a bit, but then I'm all yours."

 _I'm already yours, Masen._

"Absolutely. But first I have to go home and shower. Then I have to familiarize a few hundred books with their 'ole friend Dewey Decimal."

"Now, this Dewey guy, do I need to be worried about him?" Masen's voice is suddenly serious but I know he's joking. He's always doing his best to plaster a smile on my face.

"Very funny," I throw back at him sarcastically. "Dewey is actually a very well read man. You should step up your game." Putting on a snooty air about my voice, I continue, "I may be tiring of having a struggling musician for a boyfriend. I want to move up in the world. I need an intellectual. Dewey can recite pi to at least ten decimals."

I hear him stifle a laugh on the other end, "Three point one four one..." He begins to trail off and I know Masen will die trying to impress me.

"I'll see you later," I interrupt before he embarrasses himself.

"Until then, Love," he closes the conversation and ends the call.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** I accept that many aspects of this story are not my own creation, utilizing both Stephanie Meyer's characters and a Hallmark movie plot bunny. In my head, Twilight characters asked to be movie characters; colliding the two worlds into what I would consider the ultimate form of fan flattery, fan fiction. Thank you in advance to everyone who follows, reads, and reviews._

 **BELLA**

"Dammit, Bev," I let out an exasperated sigh.

With a hard shove and a firm twist, I finally get the lock to latch on my truck's door. Bev the Chev, as I deemed her ten years ago, was now a faded red color, with rusted fenders and a square cab. I've had her since high school and she was beginning to test my will. I threatened her often with words like _replacement_ , _junkyard_ , and _Ford_. As if she purposely refuses to die, I'm almost sure I hear her mumble back through gasoline scented breath, " _loan payment_ ".

Now, with free hands, I bend down to pick up my tote and other personal items. I am careful not to let the simple, flowing skirt of my geometrical pattern dress disclose anything unmentionable. Settling the tote in the crook of my elbow and draping a magenta cardigan over my arm, my phone chimes. With keys in one hand and a water bottle in the other, I'll have to check it later. I turn on practical ballet flats toward the Forks Library's main entrance.

During college, I settled into a job within the North Olympic Library System. After graduation, I was offered the position to be Chief Librarian a the Port Angeles' branch. I didn't take the transfer and Charlie lovingly referred to me as, "Stupid". Shortly after, I was afforded the opportunity to manage an inventory of books of vintage and historical interests for Seattle based docent, Demitri Aro. Mr. Aro insisted that I manage his entire catalog of professional literature as well. Being under-funded the library has been more than willing to allow me to keep an office here. Of course, for a small rental fee.

Through thick fog, I make out something yellow near a metal bike rack against a backdrop of maroon-colored bricks. The bright yellow certainly stands out. As I approach I realize it's Angela Weber donned in a rain jacket, which looks more like a biohazard suit.

"Thank God," Angela declares, "I rode my bike into town today and forgot my keys. I can't unlock the building." She extends her arms high, before slapping her hands down against her thighs in frustration.

"Well, the good news is, I'm here now," I announce while handing her my water bottle. She offers to take the tote too, giving me more freedom to unlock the glass-entry door. Pushing through a double set of doors, I take back my tote and drop my keys into its bottomless pit.

"You're a saint. The Harlequin readers of Forks thank you," Angela affirms. Her praise flushes my cheeks and causes them to turn pink. "Girl, learn how to take a compliment or soon you'll be the same color as that sweater." Her observation only makes them stain further.

Inside, we turn on the lights and turn down the furnace. Angela takes off her jacket and hangs it over the back of her chair as I switch on my laptop. Quickly catching up to me, Angela comes in with my water bottle and sets it on my desk.

My office is small; the only furniture is a file cabinet off to the side and a desk sitting prominently in the middle of the room. It's cluttered with prints and open books, a pair of white gloves, a magnifying glass, and a small clock ticking loudly. Angela attaches herself to the door frame, as if there isn't enough structural support for the ceiling already. She is clearly needing reprieve from her two-year-old twins at home by way of adult interaction. Mondays don't come soon enough for some of us.

Taking my phone from my purse, I read the missed message from earlier before giving in to her passive aggressiveness.

 **Masen:** _By the way, Happy First Anniversary, Love. :-*_

His virtual kiss brings a warm sensation to the pit of my stomach. Angela takes notice when I shift awkwardly in my seat and inserts herself, "I bet I know who that is." I practically hear her voice coo.

"Masen and I met a year ago, today." My voice comes out girly and unlike me.

"Already, wow! You seem happy, but are you sure about this guy, Bella?" Angela pushes off the door frame, stretching to her full height. She's trying to intimidate me. I know she's been skeptical of Masen since the first time I mentioned him.

"Bella, it's just that he's not on social media. Who doesn't have a Facebook or Instagram these days?" While Angela has a valid concern, I've never gotten the sense Masen is hiding something. "Or Snapchat! Come on Bells, you're telling me he's never asked you to send a _naughty_ while you're in Seattle on business?" Angela emphasizes the word naughty by dragging it out in a very decent British accent.

"I like that he's private," I confirm. "He's not hiding anything, he's just old-fashioned and prefers not to be glued to electronics."

"Mmm, hmm. I'm just saying, if I can't Facebook stalk him, how can I help you determine if he is the actual one?" Angela is a great co-worker and friend, but sometimes she doesn't understand boundaries.

Looking up from my desk, I raise my eyebrow at her as if to say, _Don't you have anything better to do?_ She releases an audible grunt before exiting my office.

After adjusting the angle of my laptop, I begin to dig through a precariously stacked pile of books on my desk. I smile as convincingly as I can at the idea of Masen being "the one".

Sometime later, I toss duces to Angela and go back out to my truck. I drive around town, following the line of 4 o'clock traffic. I am eager to see Masen for our date.

Pulling into the park, I stuff everything valuable under my passenger-side seat, slip off my flats and slide on a pair of boots. With work and our not-so-close living proximity to each other, it's been nearly two weeks since I've seen Masen. I pull the testy door handle and step out of the truck.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** I accept that many aspects of this story are not my own creation, utilizing both Stephanie Meyer's characters and a Hallmark movie plot bunny. In my head, those two worlds collided into what I would consider the ultimate form of fan flattery, fan fiction. Thank you in advance for reading, following, and reviewing. Special thanks to **dowlingnana** for offering to beta read my ramblings._

 **BELLA**

The park is a peaceful, happy place today. I don't need to look for Masen, I know he'll be waiting for me in our spot. It's not out in the open, so I pass teenagers on skateboards in the parking lot, mothers pushing their children on a swing set, and a father playing catch with his daughter at the far side of the field. I cut into the tree line, disappearing from the action around me. There's a trail to follow if you look for it.

Our spot is a clearing in the woods. A quaint and perfectly round meadow filled with wildflowers. Nearby, you can hear the bubbling music of a stream. The inspiration for many of Masen's beautiful compositions. It takes awhile to get there, but the hike is worth it. Especially this time of year when everything is in full bloom.

"Shit," I curse under my breath as I nearly trip over a lifted root. Shaking my foot and walking off the pain, my phone notifies me of a new text with its delicate little chime.

 **Masen:** _Watch your step, darling._

For the first time in several hundred yards, I look up from the mossy ground cover. I bite my lip to hide my smile when I see Masen perched against a coniferous tree trunk. His cheek lifts, and he matches my smile with a crooked smolder of his own. As I examine him, he looks down, as if he's nervous to meet my gaze. We're just outside the perimeter of the meadow and I'm not sure why he's waiting for me here.

 **Bella:** _I'm not worried. You'll catch me like you always do._

A hello dies on my lips as I fully take in the tall, striking figure before me. His cinnamon-toned hair is tousled, and his piercing green eyes look up, finally locking with mine. Surrendering any self-control, I break the contact and run my gaze across the sculpted outline beneath Masen's pressed shirt. It's been far too long since I felt myself in his embrace. I glance at the smooth skin above the open collar of his white Oxford. He swallows and I follow his Adam's apple up the length of his neck to an unshaven jawline. I lick my lips. I could devour this man.

We step towards each other, and he wraps me in a blanket of warmth. Masen's perfect lips touch mine. I respond more harshly than intended, and kiss him with excitement to make up for the week we've missed. As he infuses my breath with the tastes of English tea and pastries, I feel every nerve ending in my body come to life. Masen gentles his touch to a soft kiss, draws back and brushes his lips against my cheekbone.

"I love you so bloody much, Bella," his voice rough. "Marry me." Before I fully register his words, his lips return to dusting mine, surely tasting honey and granola on my smile. He cups my face in both hands and only when his name expels from my lips does he draw back.

"Masen, what's going on with you, babe?"

"This is terrible." Stepping back, he berates himself. Roughly combing his fingers over his scalp he dishevels his hair even more. Tugging on the ends, he turns his body in a complete circle before he lets out a sigh of frustration. "Let me start over, this is not at all how I planned it in my head."

The reason for his nervousness becomes blatantly clear as Masen Cullen drops to his knee. He looks up at me as if I hold his future in my hands and begins with a single word, "Love."

The term of endearment holds such reverence and life that the rest of the world vanishes away. He's talking, but my brain only gathers bits and pieces. It's as if I have a poorly built-in cellular connection.

"These twelve months in America have meant everything to me because I met you."

 _Can you hear me now?_

"Your father gave me his blessing."

 _Still foggy._

"You're everything I could ever hope for. Kind, compassionate, stunning."

 _Work brain._

"No one can love as much as I do you."

Sinking to my knees, we're now eye to eye. Just me and Masen; a man, musician, friend, and lover. He leans in, looking into my soul and whispers the only words I am able to register.

"Do me the honor and marry me, Isabella Marie Swan."

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" My voice whimpers.

Masen pulls back, silent for a moment, and then confidently declares, "You like me, for me."

Suddenly, he looks down at our clasped hands and the tension returns to his face. Dark eyes replace his usually bright ones. The near-permanent wrinkle around his smile, now a furrowed brow.

"I've spoiled what we have, Bella. I've not been completely honest." His hands leave mine and are in his hair again. "Before I can make you my bride, there's something you should know about me."

I stand, quickly putting distance between us. I begin pacing back and forth as panic prevails. Angela was right.

"Oh, shit, you're married aren't you? Or no, you're a felon? Are you dying? Please God, don't say you're dying!"

No amount of morning cardio could prepare my heart for this race. Eager to beat out of my chest, I feel as though it might explode. I shake my hands uncontrollably to bring awareness back to my body. "You're a vampire, cult leader, a British spy-"

From behind each of Edward's firm hands find my waist. He grounds me with his hold and pulls me in, so my back is flush against his chest. Unable to look into his eyes, yet able to feel his warm breath on my neck, he lets out a low groan.

"It's not like that Bella. Not at all."

My heart skips a beat.

"I'm a prince."


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:** I accept that many aspects of this story are not my own creation, utilizing both Stephanie Meyer's characters and a Hallmark movie plot bunny. In my head, those two worlds collided into what I would consider the ultimate form of fan flattery, fan fiction. Thank you in advance for reading, following, and reviewing. Special thanks to **dowlingnana** for offering to beta read this chapter._

 **BELLA**

Swiftly turning at him, my right-hand makes contact with his angular face and its rough stubble covering. Sensing the sting in my own fingers, it's no surprise that Masen shifts his strong jaw from right to left and covers his jowl with a steady hand.

"Declarations of love I expected, but this flippant and facetious rambling..." Seething with anger and a bit confused, I've all but forgotten his proposal. "You're no prince for having kept a secret from me for a year! Just tell me, what are you hiding, Masen?"

"Actually, it is 'His Royal Highness Prince Edward..." He must sense my disbelief because his speech begins to trail off; "Anthony Masen of Voltura'," The last word leaves his lips in barely a whisper.

"Prince Edward," I lift an eyebrow and cock my head in question.

"Anthony," He nods, encouraging me forward.

"Anthony Masen of…" _Where did he say again?_

"Voltura. It's a small constitutional monarchy off the coast of the North Sea. It's a very small country, Darling, but it's quite beautiful. About three-hundred square kilometers of magnificent countryside." Cupping my hands, probably in an effort to prevent further reddening of his cheek, he steps into my personal space. "Bella, go there with me. Meet my family. Tell me if this is a life you could come to be a part of."

"Quiet!" My mind scatters in every direction. The birds are too chirpy. The brook is too bubbly. There are crickets singing, mosquitoes buzzing, branches knocking, my heartbeat thumping, and his thumb rubbing mine.

I ask the only question that comes to mind, "What do I call you?"

"Yours," His voice is sullen.

We stand staring at our feet for awhile, unsure of whom should speak first and where we go from here. I contemplate the stakes at hand, wondering if I would have done the same in order to find someone interested in me rather than my riches. Replaying our year together, I feel assured that I've gotten to know his soul. Still, will the prince feel like a stranger?

"Okay," I break the silence between us.

"Okay," he returns.

"It hurts. You know? The fact that you hid the truth from me."

"I know, Love. And for that I would understand if your heart cannot forgive me." The desperation in his voice fades into something more realized, "I will make it up to you for an eternity if I have to."

"Masen, I mean, Edward," Frustrated I put my palms at my temples. With the outside world shielded behind my bladed hands, I have no choice but to meet familiar green eyes. He tries to smile and I truly see him. He's vulnerable and weak, on the brink of devastation just as I am. His name no longer matters because I know my heart wouldn't be the same without him regardless of what I call him.

 **EDWARD**

I have royally fucked up. Of this, I am certain as I look into Bella's wide-eyes, filled to their brim with tears.

When I convinced my parents to let me spend the year before my thirtieth birthday in America. I never considered the off chance that I would fall for a woman. That I would meet her on the day of my arrival and come to love her so deeply in that window of time. I had considered telling her the truth every morning but still held onto the secret each night. I scared myself into this corner, afraid my title would ruin everything.

I knew better. I knew Bella was not one to try to sleep with me and show up in Voltura nine months later with a wee one in her hands. Or sell our most intimate moments to the paparazzi, tainting my family's name in the press. Bella is sympathetic, kind-hearted, and the perfect match to my soul. Even without pomp and circumstance, she knows me better than anyone else. My mother, the regent Queen Esme, may beg to differ.

"Bella, Love. Please donnot cry."

"I don't even know your name. Was it all fake?" How can I blame her for assuming the worst!

"No," I make sure she hears the sincerity in my voice. "Edward is my birth name, but you may continue to call me Masen. It's a family name, passed down from my father's mother and part of my royal title. Cullen was my father's last name before he married my mother." Unamused, Bella doesn't blink.

"But I'm sure you mean more so than my name," I admit. "I assure you the person you have gotten to know is the same one who will hold you tomorrow. That is if you'll let me."

In anticipation of her response, I consider that there is a very real possibility that she will not let me. That this may be the last time I see Bella. I take her in and submit her to the deepest parts of my memory. Rich mahogany waves outline a porcelain-like face. Beautiful eyes, reflecting the colors of the forest, are framed by long lashes. A straight nose and full lips, ones I would beg to kiss again just so I could see the blush on her cheeks a final time.

She is not tall, but she is not short either. In fact, something I like about her is she stands regally beside me rather than placing herself in my shadow as so many arranged companions have done before her. With a healthy waistline and legs for days, I cannot help but imagine all the ways I will show appreciation for her body. Sighing, I'm reminded that there may not be a next time.

"Did you tell Charlie?" Her voice is firm and serious.

"I did not," I answer truthfully.

"Well, Edward, then I suppose we better."

 _Man, I royally fucked up._


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/N:_** _I accept that many aspects of this story are not my own creation, utilizing both Stephanie Meyer's characters and a Hallmark movie plot bunny. In my head, those two worlds collided into what I would consider the ultimate form of fan flattery, fan fiction. Thank you in advance for reading, following, and reviewing. Special thanks to_ ** _dowlingnana_** _for offering to beta read this chapter._

 **BELLA**

 _Beep. Beep. Beep._

Coming out of the haze of sleep, I roll onto my side, lazily picking up my phone.

 _4:30 a.m._

 _6 new text messages._

I swipe the bar on the touch screen to turn off the alarm before unplugging the phone from its charger. Rolling flat on my back, I set the phone on my stomach debating whether or not to go for a run. The display screen light times out and I can no longer make out the ceiling fan rotation. I expected last night to go differently. Next to me, the smooth quilt and lack of indent on the pillow show me again how far off course it went.

 _Edward_ and I agreed to meet at Charlie's for dinner tonight after he has a chance to talk to his parents. I consider how he may have spent his evening with out me. It's not hunting season, so probably seated at a piano bench. Shamelessly, I found my way to a bottle of wine and my mattress after the revelation in the park.

Picking up my phone again, I realize I must have fallen asleep mid-conversation with Angela.

 **Angela Yorkie (9:34 p.m.):** _I feel like Sherlock Holmes._

 **Angela** **Yorkie (9:46 p.m.):** _Holy shit, Bells! He's telling the truth!_

 _[download image…]_

A screenshot of the Volturian family lineage appears in the message feed. I already saw this webpage when I filled my hot date void with three-hours of Googling. There, next in line to the royal throne is an oval portrait of a face I've kissed a hundred times and the name HRH Edward Anthony Masen. Next to him, an exquisite portrait and the somewhat familiar name of his sister, Rose, apparently known as HRH Rosalie Lillian Colleen to the people of Voltura. I can't be sure if it's the situation or the wine, but my head starts to spin again.

 **Angela Yorkie 10:23 p.m.:** _Bella? You ok? Please tell me you've come to your senses and you're boning Prince Charming right now._

 **Angela Yorkie 10:23 p.m.:** _Actually, no need to respond if you are. ;-)_

 **Angela Yorkie 10:41 p.m.:** _I hope it was good, Princess Isabella. G'nite._

While Angela is ever the hopeless romantic, I am still on guard. There is Charlie and of course, his parents. In order for this to ever work, they would have to approve of me and more so, his desire to marry me. At least that's what I've come to understand from watching so many documentaries about the British Royal family on Netflix. They all operate the same way, don't they?

I lift my phone to my face and open my email app. Composing an email to Mr. Aro, I delicately dance around the truth. I leave it vague by telling him I am traveling out of the country for personal reasons and will be delayed in my response. Just as I hit the send button, a new notification pops up.

 **Jake Black:** _Not running today?_

 **Bella:** _No, sorry. Actually taking some time off. Flying overseas to meet Masen's parents. Rain check?_

 **Jake Black:** _Whoa. Good luck. I'll hold ya to it._

 **Bella:** _Nervous_

 **Jake Black:** _Don't be_.

 **Bella:** _What if they don't like me?_

 **Jake Black:** _Seriously? Everyone who meets you loves you._

 **Bella:** _Thx, Jake. :)_

After lying in bed for far too long and a stop at the grocery store, I can't wait to enter the small, white house I grew up in. As soon as Bev is parked next to Charlie's cruiser, I jump out with my crock pot in hand. Eager to smell the unique scent that is my childhood home, I jog up the porch stairs and burst through the solid oak door of the Craftsman. Pine and a smell I can only describe as metallic hit me.

"Slow down there kiddo," Charlie bellows from the front room. I pass him by and head straight to the kitchen. I hear the spring of the recliner, followed by authoritative footsteps.

 **Masen:** _Be there in a minute. I miss you and I love you._

Charlie enters the room and catches me sliding my phone into my back pocket. Feeling like Ive been caught with my hand in the cookie jar, he ignores my nervousness. He comes over and greets me with a comforting side hug and a tender kiss on the top of my head.

"Whatcha got here, Bells?"

"Deliciousness. Chili mac 'n cheese," I share as I plug in the portable cooking device of the gods.

"Where's Masen?" Charlie looks in the direction of the front door and then back at me with obvious concern now.

"Umm," Charlie can see right through me so I don't bother hiding, "Masen has something to tell you."

Reaching for his gun, I quickly pass him a beer and give him something else to occupy his hands.

"Do I need to shoot him, Bells?" One thing Charlie did well was hover. His rifle was in hand when my high school prom date came to pick me up. He doesn't joke when it comes to using ammunition.

"You should prepare yourself, but not like that. Masen," I decide right then and there just to say it, "Well, his name is actually Edward, and dad, he's a prince."

"Yeah, I know he acts like a prince around you, that's why I'm okay with him marrying you. Of course, only if that's what you want. Is that what you want?" Charlie contorts his face with the worry of a father.

"Wait! What's this Edward bullshit?"

"Dad! He's actually a real prince! He is next in line to be King of Voltura." I busy myself by emptying the contents of a brown paper bag on to the counter, acting as if it's no big deal despite the fact that it is a really big deal. Pulling a bowl down from the cupboard, I begin mixing cornbread batter. I'm not oblivious to the fact that I've put Charlie in cop observation mode.

"Dad, say something!"

"Where the fuck is Voltura?"

"Near the United Kingdom," Edward tosses the answer and a hand to Charlie, "Nice to see you again, Sir."

Maybe it's a question he's heard a dozen times, never quite as colorful, I'm sure, but he exudes confidence only that of someone bred to be a dignitary. Choosing to enter without knocking, certainly means he's ready to take on Chief Charlie Swan.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N:** I accept that many aspects of this story are not my own creation, utilizing both Stephanie Meyer's characters and a Hallmark movie plot bunny (REA on again this Saturday 3pm EST). In my head, those two worlds collided into what I would consider the ultimate form of fan flattery, fan fiction. Thank you in advance for reading, following, and reviewing. Special thanks to **dowlingnana** for beta reading this chapter._

 **BELLA**

 _ **Bella:** Landed safely._  
 _ **Dad:** Remember, you were my princess first._  
 _ **Bella:** I love you, too, dad._

 _ **Angela Yorkie:** Are you a member of the mile high club now?  
_ **Bella:** _Boundaries, Ang.  
_ **Angela** _ **Yorkie:** I will take that as a yes.  
_ **Bella:** _No.  
_ **Angela** _ **Yorkie:** You're no fun.  
_ **Bella:** _Limo's here. Talk later.  
_ **Angela** _ **Yorkie:** Wait, does he have a castle?  
_ **Bella:** _Technically, no. It belongs to the crown.  
_ **Angela** _ **Yorkie:** Squee!_

 _ **Jake Black:** Charlie tells me you've made it.  
_ **Bella:** _Safe and sound.  
_ **Jake** _ **Black:** I'm here for ya if you need me.  
_ **Bella:** _Thx, Jake._

 **EDWARD**

Brilliant sunlight enters the cab of the limousine as we pass through gates that lead onto royal grounds. I notice the goose bumps on the back of Bella's neck as she peeks out the window to study the rolling, clear landscape of my country. Wishing I could ease her worry, I reach across the seat between us and take her delicate hand in mine. Without reluctance, she turns to me and meets my eyes. With her free hand, she smoothes a hair that keeps falling in her face behind her ear.

"I feel like a princess in this limo," Bella gushes. I'm not sure she realizes the irony of her words.

"You know, it can be more than a feeling, Love." I squeeze her hand.

"Only if your parents approve of me." Bella pulls away from my grip, "Of us."

The limousine carries us over a narrow, cobblestone driveway and stops near a modest marble fountain.

"So this is it," Bella announces as she moves closer to the window. With her nose nearly pressing into the glass, she hesitantly states, "Denali Castle."

In theory, the massive 18th-century estate house should make her ecstatic with joy. Bella is a historian and can appreciate stylized features stolen from the medieval castles and French Renaissance châteaux, in a way few others can. This is a life she imagined only in her wildest dreams, and now I am offering it to her. In my heart, I know she is nervous about meeting my parents and what it would mean to become my wife.

"I am glad you are here."

"Edward, my mom, has a gypsy spirit and my dad is a small town police chief." It will take me some time to get used to her referring to me as Edward. "Your parents are a King and a Queen. I can't compete with this."

"There is no competition. You already have my heart, Bella. They will love you for that alone." Our dinner with Charlie went well, which helped bring a slight bit of her spirit back to me. Although busy with packing and travel the last few days, I have done my absolute best to reassure her that Edward and Masen are the same man.

"Take away my titles, this limousine, and the Denali," I look tenderly into bronze pools, "your five o'clock in the morning runs, the old beat up truck-"

"Hey, don't knock Bev!" Bella interrupts. Together we laugh for the first time in days.

"Alright, Bev," white teeth flash, "And towers of books, we are all just people." I consider running my hands through my hair but remember it is ceremoniously styled today. Coiffed back in a polished wave, I already miss my carefree roll-out-of-bed hair days in America.

"Would you like it to be more than a feeling, too?" I would never be done serving my time for deceiving her, but I was ready to tell my family she was my fiancé.

"Yes."

Just then, the limousine door draws open. With sure footing, I pull myself from the soft leather seat. Ignoring the footmen at each of our doors, I head around the trunk of the vehicle to meet Bella on the other side. Pulling her into my chest, I abandon all decorum and kiss her feverishly. My palms splay firmly against her back and I feel her hands rise to my hair. So much for presenting an image of perfection. I'll toss it all to the wind to savor this moment.

A throaty ahem breaks us from our public display of affection and calls our attention across a boxwood-lined drive. A familiar man stares me down, and lifts the corner of his mouth in a slow smirk. He winks rapidly and jerks his eyes towards Bella. He doesn't recognize her but there is no mistake who she is. Jasper knows I have never brought a woman home to meet my parents.

Walking over to him, he firmly shakes my hand.

"Nice to have you home, Prince Edward," Systematically he bows as he says my name.

I regard Jasper as a friend more than I do a staff member but appreciate his respect for tradition. His father was our family's head butler before he passed away a few years ago. Meaning Jasper and I grew up on the grounds together. We were quite the pair; building forts, capturing kingdoms, and of course, slaying dragons. Jasper always knew I'd be king, but that didn't stop him from being a better soldier than I, and saving a fair maiden first.

"Bella, this is Jasper, our butler."

Jasper immediately finds her hand and shakes it too, "How do you do, Miss?"

"Fine, thank you." Bella curtsies and then half a dozen staff lining the drive stifle a giggle. I give them all a stern look. As they regain their composure, Bella slowly stands and shrugs her shoulders. She shows her teeth, giving the line an awkward grin.

"I wasn't supposed to do that was I?" This time laughs cannot be held in. Standing there in a morning suit, Jasper covers his mouth to hide his own smile.

 _Bloody hell, Jasper._

I cough in silent instruction for everyone to pull their shit together.

"Sir, your parents are in the Queen's parlor. They've been expecting your arrival." Nodding his chin to his chest, the footmen begin to gather our bags from the limousine.

Following Jasper's militant step, I adjust the knot of my tie. I find it suddenly hard to breathe. Bella closes the space between us and our shoulders graze. She stares up at a black and red flag featuring the family crest. Acting with false interest, she whispers, "They're just people, Masen."

She leaves the staff with a wide smile and a friendly wave goodbye. Jasper looks back and winks at me for the second time today.

Drawing in a long, clean breath I chance a glance at the woman beside me. This time goosebumps prickle my flesh.


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N:** I accept that many aspects of this story are not my own creation, utilizing both Stephanie Meyer's characters and a Hallmark movie plot bunny. In my head, those two worlds collided into what I would consider the ultimate form of fan flattery, fan fiction. Thank you in advance for reading, following, and reviewing. Special thanks to **dowlingnana** for beta reading this chapter._

 **BELLA**

 _I'm so underdressed._

Standing in the grandiose foyer I feel as though I am most definitely the cheapest thing in this castle. I run my fingers over an alabaster sideboard and find myself completely distracted by the historic atmosphere.

"Right this way, Miss," the butler says.

"Sorry guys," I apologize and pick up my pace when I see Edward and Jasper waiting patiently for me at the next turn.

"It's quite alright, Miss." Jasper has kind eyes and a sensitive smile. Comparing the two men, he stands slightly taller than Edward. His hair is honey blonde and pulled back neatly in a short ponytail. His marble-like skin matches many of the ornate details surrounding me. He puts on a front of being all business, but I get the sense he and Edward are more than employer and employee.

"Please, call me Bella."

"Bella," Jasper confirms.

I fall in step with Edward again, and he leans into me, "Do you like what you see?" The statement is earnest, and not meant to be playful.

"Oh my gosh, it's amazing!" Only books have ever gotten me this close to history. Rich textiles line the floors and velvet-smooth tapestries drape windows. The colors are stunning; deep burgundy and magnificent gold. Oil paintings of past figure-heads hang proudly on tall walls. There's no sound, but I have an awareness of the bustling staff running the estate.

Stopping in front of ceiling-high mahogany doors, Jasper reaches for the iron handle. Pulling the large door open, I step in behind he and Edward as we enter an elegantly decorated, yet sunny chamber.

"His Royal Highness and his guest, Miss Isabella Marie Swan." Jasper's proud declaration makes me feel important. It also makes my armpits sweat.

"Mother. Father." Uncharacteristically due to nerves, I place myself behind Edward so that my Old Navy Ponte pants are hidden.

"Edward, dear, I've missed your adorable face. Oh! But that hair, must you wear it that way?" The woman's voice is delicate and maternal. Bending down slightly, Edward takes her small frame into a hug.

"Bella likes it this way," Edward tosses me to the wolves. I turn back, looking for Jasper, needing an ally to help me through, but he's vanished into thin air.

"Well, move aside son, let us meet the lady who has untamed you," a smooth male voice jokes.

Twisting his body in search, Edward flashes me a delightful smile when he finds me. Bringing me into the conversation he motions for me to come closer.

"Father, this is Bella," Edward introduces me. "Bella, this is my father, King Carlisle."

Bowing slightly, unsure of royal protocol, he saves me by presenting a masculine hand. Not wanting to offer a dead fish, I meet him with my firmest handshake and sweetest smile. Quickly, Edward turns my attention to his mother.

"Bella, this is Her Majesty, Queen Esme. Mother, Bella." Unsure if I bow, curtsy, or shake in fear, I feel like I might pass out. I'm suddenly consumed by a raw wave of emotion, upset that Edward would bring me here so unprepared.

"It's nice to meet you," my voice trembles slightly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Bella." Esme offers me a cordial handshake. She is small and slender. Soft, caramel colored hair is pulled back in a tidy chignon and I can't help but be amazed by her regalness. She's dressed in a smart pencil skirt with a silk blouse tucked tidily into the waist. Wearing what can only be real jewels and standing on impossibly thin heels, she assesses me in return.

Edward speaks of his parents often. He describes his mother as a socialite who is involved heavily in the community. His father a humanitarian. Everything about his descriptions of them makes it seem like he grew up in the perfect family. I just didn't realize how perfect.

"I've heard a lot about you," I add.

With a harsh stare at her son, Esme voice loses its affection, "Interesting, as we know very little about you."

"Oh, there's not much to know about me. Just plain 'ole Bella here," I timidly laugh. Catching myself, I close my eyes and lips. Feeling small, when I open them, I don't allow my gaze to venture anywhere other than the hem of my blazer. I sensed mother and son, throne and heir, were dueling.

"Is Rosalie here? I miss the little shit." Edward leaves his mother's question on the table, diverting it with one of his own.

"Edward Anthony," Esme tries to be stern but her voice lightens significantly.

"She had an engagement today but is scheduled here for dinner this evening," Carlisle answers. "You two have had a long day of travel." The king offers me a sympathetic look. "Edward, why don't you let Jasper show Bella to her room."

I feel Edward's palm on the small of my back, "I'll be right up, Darling?" It's sweet that he checks with me, although I know I have no say in the matter.

"I would like to freshen up a bit before dinner." Looking again at Esme, I consider the other options in my suitcase. There's not a garment in my wardrobe that seems appropriate now.

"Of course, dear," Carlisle nods.

"Let's get her settled in, then, shall we?" Esme suggests. Nearly invoking fright, Jasper appears next to me.

"Right this way."

Edward offers me an apologetic look at our separation.

"It was a pleasure meeting you," I direct my gratitude to the queen and king.

"I assure you, the pleasure was all ours," Esme dismisses me and turns her attention to her husband and son. As Jasper and I exit the room, the heavy door shuts, nearly clipping my back side.

"That was an epic fail in there, wasn't it?"

"Hardly, Bella," Jasper comforts me as we make our way up a wide, spiraling staircase. "The Queen and King just need some time to process the prince's return. It's obvious you've won him over."

Quietly we climb the stairs. Textured wallpaper draws my eye up to a stunning wedding-cake chandelier. The sun enters for a glass dome above and causes it to sparkle, dazzling the entire foyer with specks of light. Noting the gas-lamps, I calculate it is from somewhere between the 18th and 19th century.

Distracted again, I miss the next step and trip forward. I catch myself with my palms at the shiny heels of Jasper's shoes few steps ahead of me.

"Bella! Are you alright?" He turns quickly, stepping down and stooping to my level.

"What's obvious is why he didn't tell his parents about me sooner."

Jasper looks at me sympathetically and confirms my suspicions about their friendship. He shakes his head, "That doesn't mean he didn't tell others about you."


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N:** I accept that many aspects of this story are not my own creation, utilizing both Stephanie Meyer's characters and a Hallmark movie plot bunny. In my head, those two worlds collided into what I would consider the ultimate form of fan flattery, fan fiction. Thank you in advance for reading, following, and reviewing. Special thanks to **dowlingnana** for beta reading this chapter._

 **EDWARD**

I want to follow Bella and Jazz, but my mother gave me the look. Carefully she lifts a tea kettle and pours hot liquid into a China cup. Seating herself on the arm of the blush sofa she regards me with much curiosity.

"She's quite the treat, Eddie," My father claps.

"A treat she may be, but Edward, I have to wonder what has come over you? Did you forget your station while you were in America?" I sense my mother is on the brink of losing her composure.

"No, absolutely not. It would be impossible to forget something you have prepared me for since birth." I am the only person in this country who can challenge my mother, and I will do so when it comes to Bella.

"Edward, you are my son first, heir to the throne second and I am worried about you," she speaks softly.

"Then, would you not like to see your son happy? I'm in love with Bella, and all I ask is that you give her a chance." Unable, or unwilling to answer me, she lifts the cup from its saucer and puts it at her lips.

"Edward, let me talk privately with your mother. It's been a long day and everyone is quite testy." My father places an arm around my shoulder, he pulls me into his side and walks us to the door. Whispering he says, "Dinner is in one hour. Be on time, it will please your mother."

Opening the door, he repeats, "I'll talk to her. Go, save Bella from Alice."

 **BELLA**

"Here you are, Bella, the Lavender Room. Prince Edward thinks it will suit you best."

Jasper pushes the door open, keeping his feet firmly planted in the hall. I look at him curiously.

"I won't enter your private quarters unless I am invited."

I nod appreciatively and step into the room. With wide-eyes I glance at my new surroundings.

"I'll leave it to you," Jasper begins. "Your attendant will be in shortly. I trust you'll like her. Mary Alice, my lovely wife, is quite eager to meet the lass who stole our friend's heart." And with that, he vanishes again.

Circling the room, I bask in its beauty. It's light and airy. The walls are coated with soft lavender paper treatment and breezy white curtains hit the floor. A rich, iron bed invites me from across the room. With a plush sea of white pillows it looks like a cloud.

Inching toward the bed, I take notice of items on a small side table. Freesia is arranged in a milk-glass vase. Catching my eye is the pristine, antique book lying next to it. Delicately picking it up, I read the cover.

 **Wuthering Heights**

 **A Novel**

 **Ellis Bell**

Could it be? An 1847 First Edition of my favorite book. This book is worth upwards of ten thousand dollars and so incredibly rare. I bring the bound pages to my nose and inhale the scent of Emily Brontë's words. The sweet, musky smell lingers.

 _"Oh my God, I could kiss you, Masen."_

"Kiss who?" A spirited voice fills the room, shocking me.

 _Did I say that out loud?_

"Hi, I'm Alice," the woman announces enthusiastically. She damned near skips across the room to meet me. "Wow, Jazz told me you were lovely, but he was being modest."

The feeling was mutual. Alice had dark black hair, cut into a cute pixie. What she lacks in height, she seems to make up with personality.

"Oh, my, have I lost my manners?" Stepping back, the sprite rubs the front of her apron.

"Please, don't feel bad," I place the book back on the nightstand. "It's nice to be around someone normal. No one else here seems to know quite what to do with me."

"Well, we can start by picking out something for you to wear to dinner." Opening my suitcase Alice begins sorting through my things.

"I can do that myself," I say, feeling bad having someone wait on me.

"I'll help her, Alice," and there's a knock on the door. Alice composes herself quickly before folding into a perfect curtsy.

"Good evening, Your Royal Highness."

Alice looks over at me and shakes her head up and down, darting her eyes at the ground. I catch on and curtsy, too.

"You may take off the rest of the day, Alice," and without a word, Alice retreats from the room.

"So, you're Bella," the woman observes my luggage. "I'm Princess Rosalie, all though I suppose you've already gathered that."

I knew she would be beautiful, but I didn't imagine this level of perfection. She was a regal woman with golden barrel curls and sultry curves.

She browses the room, eyeing my luggage and then my form. With an unpleasant look on her face, she makes a remark under her breath. I can't make out her words. I'm not sure I wanted to hear them anyway.

She turns back to my wardrobe, sorting through the garments. Feeling uncomfortable, I sit on the edge of the bed. This time I can hear her.

"Soon enough he'll see you aren't cut out for this life. Soon enough you'll realize it too."

"I'm already starting to make that realization."

"There's nothing suitable here," Rosalie declares. "Alice would help you, but I want to see if you'll sink or swim on your own."

Appalled, I want to scream. A welcomed interruption prevents me from immediately drowning.

"Rose! I heard you were home." Finally a familiar voice. "So it seems you've saved Bella from Alice for me."

"Eddie! Ah, it's so good to see you."

The two hug and exchange other pleasantries. Edward's laugh turns into a yawn.

"Tired?" Rose points out, "Jetlag will do that to you. You two must be exhausted. Perhaps a quick nap for more enjoyable dinner company, dear brother?"

Waltzing out of the room, she tosses her hair over her shoulder, "Nice to meet you, Isabella."

Edward closes the door.

"Please, no more visitors. The revolving door is giving me whiplash. I think your sister hates me." Exhaustion was beginning to weigh on me, too.

"No more visitors. And ignore Rose, she hates everyone."

"Are you staying in here with me?"

"No, Love, I'm afraid that would throw my mother into quite the tizzy." Sighing, I feel my face drop. I assumed he wouldn't, but Rose's words made me somewhat hopeful.

"But I am here now," he says, pulling me in by my waist, hands gripped tightly between my two layers; blazer and camisole. He captures my lips and I melt further into him.

"This room is beautiful, Edward."

"Not as beautiful as you." I feel limber fingers dance at my sides and slip beneath the thin satin fabric. His hands are warm against the flesh of my waist. I let out an embarrassing moan, which only seems to fuel Edward more.

Forcing me backward, I fall onto the bed. I move so my whole body is flush with the mattress. Edward stalks me like a cat, knee between my thighs. Dipping down, he places a gentle kiss on my collarbone. I shift naturally underneath the weight of his body.

"Bella, we can't."

"You started it." I close my eyes and sink into the feather soft abyss.

"Love?" he whispers in my ear as he rolls to my side, draping an arm across my waist and nuzzling into my neck. Turning onto my hip, I lift my top leg over his. Grasping my thigh with a strong hand, he holds us in place.

"Yes, babe?" Enjoying the moment, I play with his hair between my fingers.

"Be patient with them," his voice is muffled, his mouth so close to my skin. "Please."

"Okay," I muster before all energy escapes my body.

"Okay," his voice fades into nothing.

 **ROSALIE**

"They're late," she says.

Father and I look at each other across the table. Mother gestures to the staff and dinner is served.


	9. Chapter 9

**_A/N:_** _I accept that many aspects of this story are not my own creation, utilizing both Stephanie Meyer's characters and a Hallmark movie plot bunny. In my head, those two worlds collided into what I would consider the ultimate form of fan flattery, fan fiction. Thank you in advance for reading, following, and reviewing. Special thanks to_ ** _dowlingnana_** _for beta reading this chapter._

 **BELLA**

" _Miss?"_

 _A small fry, please._

" _Miss Bella?"_

 _Yes, Masen, I am going to dip fries in my Frosty. You got a problem with that?_

" _Excuse me, Miss Bella?"_

 _What? An earthquake! This always happens when I go to Wendy's._

The earthquake morphs into a hand on my shoulder and I come out of a dreamy haze. However, the sudden realization that I'm not alone, or in a place I recognize has me nervous as a cat. I pounce up into a seated position, gasping for air. Taking a moment to recall my surroundings it slowly begins to come back to me. The beautiful room. The spirited hand-maiden, Alice. And, _Oh, shit! Dinner!_

"I'm sorry to wake you, Miss," Alice's voice is hushed.

"What time is it?" I spring out of bed, nearly stumbling over my own two feet.

"Nearly eight o'clock, Miss."

"It's Bella," I say, suddenly annoyed at the continued formality, "How late am I for dinner?" Bounding to my feet, I frantically look around the room for my suitcase. I don't see it and I feel myself getting volcanically upset inside.

"I pressed and hung your garments in the wardrobe," The petite woman is following me around the room. Noticing my imminent explosion she mentions hesitantly, "And, I do hate to be the bearer of bad news." I turn around and face her. I clearly look frightening because the bubbly girl loses her smile. Alice's eyes are deeply empathetic, "tis eight o'clock in the morning."

"Oh," is all I can muster.

"I brought you some coffee. Edward says you prefer it to tea. That might cheer you up a bit, no?" Alice is apologetic and begins to organize dishes on a tray.

"I might as well book my flight home now." Folding my arms over my eyes, I trust fall into the mattress. When my back hits the padding, I let out a frustrated sigh. Trying to be persuasive, Alice's sing-song voice interrupts my episode of self-loathing.

"Not yet, you don't. I just know you and Edward will work out," She says rapidly, reaching for my hands and pulling me into a seated position. Alice speaks almost too fast for comprehension. "I've told Jazz, I have a sense about these things. He thinks my little premonitions are in my head. Funny thing about that, I've always been able to predict whether or not he'll get," abruptly Alice stops. "Oh, never mind that."

I fight back a smile, certain I could predict what it was she was about to say. I can't contain it and break my silence with a small laugh. Alice is the first real person I've met since landing on the opposite side of the Atlantic.

Passing me a delicate cup, I take the creamy porcelain and admire its intricate floral pattern and gold rim. I take a sip and try my best not to spit out the bitter concoction she called coffee.

"Oh, my, there I go again. I just feel as though I already know you but clearly I don't." Alice slows down a bit, "Would you like cream? Sugar?" She pushes a small tray of additives in my direction. Absorbing the energetic force in front of me, I simply shake my head and put the cup down on the nightstand.

"Mr. McCarty, he's the chef, I can have him prepare you something else if you don't like it."

"That's not necessary. I'm sure Mr. McCarty is trying his best to accommodate me."

"Emmett," she pauses, "Mr. McCarty, and my husband are good friends, I'm sure he won't be offended." Wishing I could bottle Alice's energy and drink it, I listen as she rambles on. "Jasper is my husband. He and Edward have been friends since they were boys, long before Jazz began working for the Queen. Well, Emmett came along, and while Edward may have you convinced he's some stately prince, those three are actually quite a handful outside of palace walls."

Alice laughs. It is pleasant and makes me want to smile, except I can't.

"Edward actually didn't tell me he was a prince."

"Oh. Oh, my," Alice looks back at me with a frown on her face. The bewitching smile is gone, and has been replaced with a temperamental woman with magnetic eyes.

"I will be talking to that boy."

I stand up and Alice immediately busies herself by tidying the bed, fluffing pillows and straightening out the blankets I slept on top of. The blankets Edward and I slept on top of.

 _Edward._

"Edward, have you seen him? Is he mad?" I ask, becoming aware of my lack of companion.

"Edward had an engagement this morning. He will be back in time for the Queen's afternoon tea." The thought of the Queen makes me shiver.

"Don't worry about the Queen," she adds, realizing my concern. "She's not so bad once you get to know her. I'm sure you will be forgiven in no time for missing dinner."

"I'm not so sure."

"Well I am sure. It will be fine," I wish I had a shred of Alice's confidence. "Before he went to the states, Edward wasn't comfortable in the limelight. He was a brooding and quiet man. Unsure of himself and so full of angst. You seem to have brought out something in him. It would seem he's a changed man since having met you. All the staff was a buzz this morning about his sunnier than usual disposition. For that alone, the Queen will have to like you."

Moving on from the bed, Alice pulls open the doors of a small wardrobe, "I hope you don't mind, I couldn't help but notice you're quite ill-prepared. If you don't mind, I'd like to bring you some additional options."

"You don't have to do that."

"It'd be my pleasure," She turns her head and smiles at me. "I'm here to tend to you. And I quite fancy fashion."

I smile shyly at her. She must take it as a yes.

With a little more pep in her step, she skips on tiny feet, "Well, I'll let you start your day. If you need me I'm just a ring away," She swings out of the room and closes the door behind her.

Skimming my fingers over each of the hung fabrics, I hear my phone vibrate from inside my purse. Hanging in the wardrobe on a hook is the small leather bag. Pulling it out, I look at the screen.

 _15% low battery_

3 _new text messages_

 ** _Angela Yorkie (10:23 p.m.):_** _Updates pls!_

 ** _Masen (2:43 a.m.):_** _You looked perfectly pleasant, I couldn't wake you. Don't worry about dinner or my mom. I will talk to her_... and Rose. :)

 ** _Masen:_** _I love you._

 ** _Bella:_** Hi.

 ** _Bella:_** Are _guillotines still a thing?_

 ** _Masen:_** _No, and before you ask, neither are dungeons._


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N:** I accept that many aspects of this story are not my own creation. Thank you in advance for reading, following, and reviewing. Special thanks to dowlingnana for beta reading this chapter._

 _Maybe our debonair prince can redeem himself a bit this chapter._

 **EDWARD**

I follow my mother and her advisor down the main hall upon our return to Denali. She's busy going over plans for an upcoming state dinner. Distracted by the preparations, she doesn't notice me slip into a discreet service door at the edge of the corridor. I'll catch up in time for her afternoon tea.

Finding myself in a dark, narrow stairway, I run my hands along the cold stone wall as I drop deeper into the castle. As I told Bella, there are no dungeons here, but there are certain corners that would have you believe otherwise.

When my cognac designer shoes hit the final step, the warm, sweet smell of fresh pastries hits my nose. I unbutton the jacket of my high-end navy suit, casually displaying more of the blue and purple crosshatch material beneath. With one hand in my fitted pant pocket, and the other damaging a perfectly styled head of hair, I rock back on my heels.

Alice is approaching the stairs and is the first to notice me in the busy kitchen. Stopping at my feet, she greets me with a look I can't quite comprehend. I am taken by surprise when she suddenly tugs and begins constricting the knot around my Adam's apple.

"You kept this life a secret from her!" She's quiet but assertive, "You just tossed her to the wolves! You," she says almost disgusted, "didn't prepare her for any of this?"

Loosening her grip, Alice's smile widens and the anger vanishes. She wraps her tiny frame around me in a friendly hug as if she suddenly realizes it's been a year since we've seen each other. She leans back and looks up with wide, round eyes and begins to straighten the fabric of my tie. Lifting the crisp collar of my shirt, she readjusts the slim fabric. She runs her hand down the length and pats it just over my heart.

"There, that's better," Alice looks satisfied. "She's an absolute doll, Edward. She and I are going to be great friends." She lifts herself onto the tips of her toes and places a kind kiss to my cheek. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go do what you couldn't and finish preparing your lady for the Queen's tea." Alice squeezes passed me and scurries up the stairs.

Giving me no time to sulk again over how royally I fucked up, a booming male voice echoes throughout the room.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in."

"Emmett, what have you been doing?"

"Your sister." It's no secret Emmett wants his chance with Rose. Unlike me, Rose isn't going to risk it all for a commoner though. I don't have the heart to tell him it's never going to happen.

"Good luck with that bloodsucker," I say, always ready to rip on my sister.

Stepping into his workspace, the burly man in a Toque Blanche meets me halfway around the butcher block. We clasp hands and pull each other tightly chest to chest, throwing a fist against the other's back

I grab a warm scone off the counter, taking a bite. My eyes roll back in my head, and I moan something utterly manly like _"This is Heaven"._

"That good, huh?" Emmett asks.

"That good," I say back, "And I can tell you know so because that apron looks a little tighter on you than it did a year ago. Have you been quality testing your product?"

"Look who's talking. Love looks good on your waistline. Or was it all the American processed foods?"

It feels nice to be around old friends. The banter easily flowing, but I can't help but want to be back in Forks with Bella. Where things are simple.

Flexing my jaw, I take another bite.

"So, she's here." Emmett leans into the solid countertop and crosses thick, muscular arms at his chest.

"She's here."

"And you're willing," I'm not sure if it's a declaration or a question, but the words escape his mouth.

"To see her smile every day, I'll risk it all," I respond knowing exactly what he's referencing but not willing to admit what it means for my country.

"Well, then, I'm happy for you," Emmett genuinely smiles.

Grabbing a chocolate croissant, I give him a devilish grin and turn to head back up the stairs.

"Used, Man. I feel used." The bear announces.

My entry back into the great hall is not nearly as discreet as my exit. Hearing the tap of my shoes on marble, I walk in the direction of the sitting room. Reaching into the jacket's breast pocket, I pull out my phone and begin messaging Bella.

 _ **Edward:** Can't wait to see your gorgeous face._

 _ **My Bella:** I miss you, too._

 _ **Edward:** I'm going to steal you away this afternoon._

 _ **My Bella:** Oh, yeah, where are you taking me?_

 _ **Edward:** There's this place I know._

 _ **My Bella:** Oh, being vague now?_

 _ **Edward:** Yep. I need us._

 _ **My Bella:** What makes you think I'll go. Alice and I might have plans._

 _ **Edward:** You can't resist me._

 _ **Edward:** And you hate shopping._

Looking down at my phone waiting for her response, I round the corner into the sitting room, bumping into a soft figure.

"Mom!" I exclaim, reaching to help steady her.

"It's quite alright, Dear," she says, smoothing out the rich Tweed fabric of her skirt. "Something has your attention that you didn't notice your dear 'ole mum standing here?

"Bella."

"Yes, of course, Bella." Seating herself, I follow suit and take a seat opposite her. We settle into silence, her sorting through paperwork, me leaning back into the high wing chair. I place my ankle on the opposite knee, and I stare through the glass pane at the vast landscape.

For several minutes my mother and I sit there in understood silence waiting for others to arrive. I had already apologized for dinner. I had defended Bella's honor. My mother pointed out the flaws in my love-sick scenario and I explained that I didn't much care. It was awkward and ugly, but we are both adults who vastly understand the consequences of one's actions.

With clicking heels, Rosalie announces her appearance and breaks the serenity.

"Nice to see you're finally awake, Prince Charming."

"Mother and I have already spoken of this, Rosalie, and while it's none of your concern what I was doing last night, I feel the need to mention it to you as well..." I remove my ankle from my knee and place both feet firmly on the floor. With elbows on my thighs now, I lean forward and regard each of the women.

"Bella is a guest at Denali. And like any guest, you will treat her with respect. Quite frankly, I was disappointed in both of you yesterday. Show a little grace. She is important to me. Rosalie, your behavior is unbecoming of a sovereign."

Before Rosalie can respond, the doors open and there, on my father's arm is a vision. My eyes latch greedily to slim hips, and the green dress softens every curve of her body. Her hair is neither up, nor down, softly framing her face and falling in loose tendrils around her ears. Her lips are nude, but shimmer like diamonds. When her eyes lock with mine, goose flesh forms. Taken back by such a vivid image of femininity, I begin to wonder who replaced my girl next door, with this poised, radiant woman.

"Good day, Queen Esme," Bella executes a perfect curtsy, "Princess Rosalie." Picking her jaw off the floor, Rosalie looks dumbfounded.

Bella throws a wink my way and I can't help but grin from ear to ear, "Hello, Prince Edward."

 _Alice, what have you done?_


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N:**_ _I accept that many aspects of this story are not my own creation. Thank you in advance for reading, following, and reviewing. Special thanks to_ _ **dowlingnana**_ _for beta reading this chapter._

 **EMMETT**

I have yet to meet the lady from America everyone is talking about, but I spot her right away when I push the tea cart into the drawing room. She's the only one who doesn't look like she has a stick up her ass.

Everyone had anticipated Edward's return after being away for a year. Only some of us were privy to the fact he'd be bringing someone special home. I think Jasper knew first that Bella was the 'one'. It was me though, who first pointed out that our once melancholy prince was whipped. Still, none of us were willing to admit how this singular woman would divide the house we work and live in.

Of the five other individuals in the room, she is the only one who looks at me as I set up tea. She smiles shyly when our eyes meet and lifts her hand off her lap to give me a fluttering wave. I shake my head, silently telling her not to acknowledge my presence. I'm not a complete dick though, so I return a pleasant smile as well.

 _Good work, Eddie boy._

Also not looking to get my ass torched in the town square, I only briefly acknowledge that she's kind of a knockout, before moving my thoughts back to setting up tea. I smile inwardly as I listen to the family make small talk around me. Bella seems a bit nervous when asked direct questions but she's well educated and that impresses the Queen. Edward needs a brainy woman to keep up with him.

I pour the Queen's tea first; two sugars, no cream, and a sprig of mint. Serving her from the left, I take notice of unsteady hands, which is unlike her. In fact, I'd be surprised if the Queen didn't feel like a dumbbell for trying to push that twit, Lady Victoria on her son last year. Having heard about Bella through texts and phone calls over the last year, and just seeing her for the first time today, I see she far exceeds that hideous red-headed woman's potential as Edward's wife.

"Thank you, Em-," The Queen stutters, "Oh, my, Mr. McCarty."

"My pleasure, Ma'am." The rumors are true, Bella has ruffled quite a few feathers.

Handing off the next cup of tea; no sugar, no cream, just a dash of lavender and a slice of lemon, I could consider ruffling a few of this woman's feathers myself.

Rosalie's shape consumes me. Long, ivory legs wrap delicately at the ankles and with feet slid into heels so thin. Her pale blonde hair is curled and bouncing at her shoulders, while a shiny hairpin pulls my attention to violet eyes. Yeah, she's feisty and hot, but most of all she's misunderstood.

It started with me pulling her plait one morning at nursery school and her biting me on the arm in return. Later, when we attended preparatory, she caught me staring at her boobs and stole my bike right out from under me. She rode faster than I ran, and when the castle gates closed she left me stranded on the other side in the rain.

After that, I was bound and determined to get inside. So, yeah, I used my best friend, Edward for professional gain and enrolled as a culinary arts student. I exposed myself to artisanal practices that would look great on the plate and taste damn good going down. I knew this gold standard would be fit for the palace.

However, I assumed wrong in thinking I could win Rosalie's affection through her stomach. Turns out, it's the Prince who has an appetite. I've experienced his mouth orgasms far more than I care to admit and I've made no progress winning Rosalie's heart.

 _Kale is overrated._

"Miss, how do you prefer your tea?" I ask, quietly leaning into Bella's shoulder.

"Umm, I don't really know," she bites her lip and raises her eyebrows. I glance in Edward's direction, he's got the dorkiest grin and sappiest, puppy-dog eyes plastered on his face. I hope he can read my mind when I tease him in my head, _Ah, hell, you went all Notebook on me._

Edward provides an affirmative nod.

"I'll prepare your tea the same as His Royal Highness," I confirm to her, nudging in Edward's direction.

"That would be nice. Thank you." She's sweet. I've enjoyed razzing Edward about the relationship I plan to have with his sister. Nobody wants to imagine their family in compromising positions. Naked. But now busting his nuts about how ball and chain he is, is going to be quite fun, too.

I prepare the following three cups the same, serving Bella, Edward and Carlisle an equally prepared English afternoon with sugar and milk. Before leaving the room, I move a tray of flaky dough on a short table at the center of the room. There, I notice Rosalie's gaze linger a little longer. Though it's not on her lips, I sense she is smiling at me.

 _I caught you again, Princess._

One thing I have learned about Princess Rosalie is very few have held her interest. She's had opportunities; all Dukes, maybe a Lord, but they are all given the look of death when they try to touch her. A relationship doesn't seem to be something she needs in her life. Being seduced seems to be something she flat out refuses. Trust me, I've tried.

For one delirious second when I first came on staff, I thought she was going to kiss me. I've held onto hope every day since then that moment was proof she wants the boy who tugged on her hair. The one who will take what she dishes and serve it right back. One day soon, I'm going to thank Edward for paving the way for commoner and royal hearts to blend. In the meantime…

 _God help me._


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N:** I accept that many aspects of this story are not my own creation. Thank you in advance for reading, following, and reviewing. Special thanks to _dowlingnana _for beta reading this chapter._

 **BELLA**

"Rosalie, you are not to relieve the staff of their duties. Do you understand me?"

I watch the resolve on Esme's face and realize that she will go through any length to defend her rank, and I'd be lying if I said the realization didn't scare me.

"I'm sorry again about last night," I immediately feel the need to apologize. It's the third time I've done so in the last hour. I don't know why I bring it up again.

"Mother, you'll have to forgive Bella," Edward begins to speak. "It's my fault," he hesitates only briefly, "I didn't prepare her well at all, and then with all the travel. You can hardly blame her for falling asleep last night."

"Admit it, Mom; it's me your mad at. Please, I have to ask that you not take it out on Bella."

"Very well," Esme considers.

I try my best not to flinch. It's quite a display, me trying not to give a single indication that I am afraid. With calm eyes, I assess my surroundings while pretending to be focused on the conversation.

As I analyze the group of resplendent people around me, I am afforded a better glimpse of Edward's profile. His intentionally unshaven jaw seems perfect, rattling me in a completely unwholesome way. Watching his hand reach up to massage the scruff of his chin, I swallow. His brandy hair is out of control - take-me-to bed styled from the pull of his fingers. Standing with his father to the side of the room, he pushes the sleeves of his white button up so that his forearms are exposed.

It's impossible not to take notice of the way perfectly-tailored gabardine pants grip his thighs. The outfit would have seemed preposterous in Forks, but here he's so obviously a prince. Perfect from every angle. Dignified, poised and polished, I know under all the fancy clothes is a tender man who's ticklish behind his knees.

His eyes turn and collide with mine. I'm almost startled by the affectionate survey. Dismissing him and allowing my ovaries a chance to sigh, I glance down at the chiffon fabric of the beautiful dress Alice pulled for me. Maybe I can be a part of this life, too.

"Is that right, Darling?" I'm woken again by the proximity of Edward's voice.

"I'm sorry, I missed the question." Embarrassed I feel my cheeks flush with color.

"Did we put you to sleep again, Bella?" Rosalie alleges.

"Rose!" There it is again, a sharp judgment from Edward's sister. This time though, it is followed by a quick rebuttal from the others in the room.

Carlisle smiles again, "I'd much enjoy meeting your father. Is he a sportsman, Bella?"

"Oh, well, Charlie doesn't kill what he can't eat," I respond quickly, immediately regretting my words. My big fat mouth is subconsciously attempting to school a King on animal rights. "I mean, yes, Charlie hunts and fishes with purpose, Sir."

To my dismay, Edward looks me in the eye and snorts.

"What?" I ask, feeling my chest tighten.

"Dad likes to skeet shoot," he hesitates, "I think he much prefers animals roaming the grounds opposed to hanging on the walls as well, Love."

Carlisle and Edward continue talking about clay targets. Rosalie chimes in about how she's a better shot than Edward. Edward rebounds with something about being faster than her. Esme fails at breaking the two of them from their sibling competition. And me, well, I am finding it hard to concentrate on the conversation because I'm mesmerized by the man who just called me 'Love' in front of his family.

Edward's made some mistakes and yet, I love him despite those imperfections. The errors outweighed by all the good. Our eyes lock for a moment, but he jerks his gaze back to his mother. He seems intent on pleasing her and me at the same time, a man torn between childhood and adulthood. Despite wanting to strangle him several times over the last few days, I have sympathy for the position he has put himself in.

Abruptly, Esme stands and takes her place next to Carlisle's side. She nods to Rosalie to stand as well. Feeling awkward, I stand too, getting the sense that afternoon tea has abruptly ended.

"Son, you and Bella have hardly had a moment to yourself, I'm sure you'd like to show her the grounds," Carlisle's voice is warm. "Perhaps, you two would like to go on a bit of an exploration today."

"Oh, yes, my garden is in full bloom. I'm sure Bella would like to see the efflorescence," Esme seems joyful when she speaks of her garden.

"That would be-" I'm interrupted by Edward.

"Mother, I was thinking I'd take her into town. I've gotten to know Forks well over the last year; I'd like to show Bella my hometown."

"Edward, do you really think that's a good idea?" I feel the queen slowly ice back over, freezing any sense of human decency I uncovered this afternoon.

"I don't see anything wrong with it," Edward stands as well. He turns to me and displays his hand, asking me to take it.

"Edward," Carlisle takes Esme's arm in the crook of his arm and pats her hand gently, "its bad form to be seen in public casually before the palace has had a chance to make proper announcements."

Edward's shoulders drop, and in a whisper, I hear him speak, "I'd like her with me."

"We know son," Carlisle seems sympathetic.

The polished veneer seems like it washes away and his eyes are mournful portals into his heart. The look he gives me indicates that his father's words struck a chord with him.

"Shall we," he asks as he steps in my direction and reaches a hand in offering.

Taking it, "We shall."

Esme rests her head against the strong chest of her husband as we exit the room. I feel emotion wrap around my throat, remembering that we're all in this together.

Uncertainty.

With determined fingers, I wrap them around Edward's hand. Remembering the feel of his touch. Remembering him.

 _Masen._


End file.
